Halfway to Anywhere
by scary-blue
Summary: Tag to 2:21 and 2:22. Spoilers! Dean is looking for his brother, but what he finds might not have a happy ending as Sam see someone he never thought he'd see again. I suck at summaries. Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural (damn you kripke!) now complete!
1. Chapter 1

**Cold Oak, South Dakota**

They had been driving for hours, and Dean was nearing the point of exhaustion, but he had refused to let Bobby take the wheel. For once, it had nothing to do with the well-being of his precious car, and he threw the Impala around corners at breakneck speed, suspension be damned. Right now, Hell, _always_, Sam was more important. He had to find Sammy. Had to look after him. And that crazy-ass vision thing earlier had, hopefully, told him where to look.

Cold Oak, South Dakota. The town so haunted that everybody left. Or were forced to leave. You never knew what vengeful spirits would do for a quiet life. Accounts varies in their views on how many ghosts the old mining town actually had, but Dean was willing to bet on at least a hundred. He was also willing to bet that, right now, they would be baying for Winchester blood. And Dean didn't bet unless the odds were stacked in his favour.

On the other hand, he definitely wouldn't have put his hard earned money on the freaky-ass vision that had led him here on the first place. Because, you know, a vision! That was Sam territory, bizarre even for Dean, although he tried to hide from his little brother how much it really weirded him out. Christ, he had laughed at the kid. He knew now that they were not fun _at all_. They hurt like Hell, and left your ears ringing for … well, they were still clanging in his head now. He was immensely grateful that Bobby had been there to catch him. And he was glad that the older hunter had recognised the bell form Dean's shabby description. Seriously, how the man could hold so much information in his head was beyond Dean, but he wasn't complaining. Especially not if it helped him find Sammy.

The Impala skidded to a halt in a muddy field next to a cluster of run-down wooden structures. Every instinct told Dean to barrel out of the car and race to his baby brother, but his training – and his father's voice embedded in his subconscious – reminded him to take it slow and steady. They had no idea what was out there. Opening the trunk, he retrieved his trusty sawn-off shotgun, loaded it with salt rounds and filled his jacket pockets with spares. Beside him, Bobby did the same. They were ready.

It was wet, and the ground was squelchy underfoot as they followed the trail past an old, creaky windmill and into Cold Oak itself. Squinting against the driving rain, Dean could just make out a tall figure through the gloom. As it neared, it became easier to distinguish from the dark around it. If the sheer size of the creature hadn't identified it as his Sasquatch brother, the long hair, plastered to his forehead and dripping frigid rainwater in his eyes, would have. Sammy! He was alive. He was holding his right arms awkwardly, but tightly, to his side, which suggested to Dean that he had at least a dislocated shoulder, but he was upright and he was walking. The relief on his face at the sight of his brother was painfully obvious, and Dean's anger rose at the thought of what had happened to his kid brother in the last twenty-four hours.

"Sam!" He called, forgetting his wariness and allowing his own relief to filter through to his voice. His brother might irritate him to extreme levels, but he had never been so happy to see him, bedraggled as he may be. It would appear his brother felt the same, judging by the wonky grin that now spread across his face.

"Dean!" Sam staggered towards his brother, gritting his teeth against the obvious pain in his shoulder. Behind him, a second, shorter shadow moved, but he wasn't at full speed so he didn't seem to notice. Dean's heart leapt into his mouth as the figure bent to the ground, before straightening with something in his hand. Something that glinted dimly in the watery moonlight. A knife!

"Sam, look out!" Too slow, far too slow, Sam began to turn, but it was too little, too late. Sam gasped as the mystery man plunged the knife deep into his back, and let his arms fall to his sides, dislocated shoulder forgotten. The man behind his brother twisted the knife sharply and Sam grunted, his face contorting in agony.

"No!" Dean let his shotgun fall to the mud and began to run and his brother crumpled to his knees. He hit the ground seconds after Sam, grabbing the frint of his jacket and silently willing his head to rise. Sam's eyes flickered in Dean's direction, but they were dull and unfocussed. Dean's blood ran cold and it took every ounce of his willpower to not react to the state his little brother was in. it might not be as bad as it looked. God knows, Sammy had survived injuries just as bad as this before.

"Sam!" He tried desperately to get a response out of his brother, but could do no more than catch Sammy under the arms as he sagged against Dean's chest, breathing ragged and eyes fixed on a point somewhere over Dean's shoulder…


	2. Chapter 2

**Ok. So this story was gonna be two chapters long, three at most. I changed my mind. I decided that more, shorter chapters would be more effective, let you see how I see this episode and stuff. So, yeah. More chapters. This is for peace n paris, the first to follow me! Yay! Disclaimer: I still don't own the boys (shame. If I did I could have some REAL fun!) Everything Jess says (or Sam thinks in later chapters) are lyrics from 'Anywhere' by Evanescence, the song that made me write this in the first place. The full lyrics can be found at (other lyrics sites are available too! Haha)**

**Please review! I need to know if this is any good or not!**

**Peace n paris: let me know if you like. I hope you do!**

**Have fun guys!**

_Sam heard Dean's frantic shout, but his dazed mind barely registered the warning. His faltering spin to face this new danger ended abruptly as pain flared across his back, white hot and crippling. Eyes wide, he gasped for air as the agony in his spine intensified and he felt his knees turn to jello. He saw the ground's rapid approach, but his rain-drenched legs hardly felt the impact. Sam became suddenly aware that the harsh noises he could hear were emanating from his own raw throat, as he struggled to draw in a useful breath. A distant part of his fuddled brain vaguely noticed that someone had take hold of his jacket and a voice that sounded like someone he knew was shouting at him. Had he done something wrong? He lifted his gaze and tried to focus on the words, but they floated through his mind like a fine mist and the figure was hazy and indistinct. _

_Summoning all of his remaining strength, Sam flicked his eyes in the direction of the man holding his upright. Dean? Whoever it was, he sounded a little worried, and Sam wondered why. He was fine, just a little out of it. He just needed a minute to gather some air; to pull himself together. Looking up, his breath escaped in a rush as he saw and outline form behind the man – Dean? – supporting him. It was bright, outlined in a golden haze, and bore the face of a girl he never thought he'd see again. A face that had haunted his dreams – his nightmares – for the last two years. A face he had longed for, hoped for, feared. Jess. His strength finally failed him and he fell sideways, collapsing against the familiar-but-unknown man and staring at his lost girlfriend over his shoulder._

"_Dear?" Jess' voice was exactly as he remembered it, soft and low. Sam blinked at the words._

"_My love. Haven't you wanted to be with me?" He had; everyone knew how badly he wanted Jess back. Knew how much he blamed himself for her death. He wished he could take her place, could give her back the life she should have had. Without him. But Dean needed him, he knew that now. His brother was … different … when he was around, and Sam could see how happy their rediscovered brotherhood made Dean. He had changed so much two years, he doubted he would fit back into that Ivy League world anyway. He had to stay._

"_Dear? My love?" Jess spoke as though she could read his mind. _

"_Haven't you longed to be free?" Sam tried to imagine a life with no ghosts, no demons, no skanky motel rooms, no fast food and no AC/DC. God - that would be bliss. Heaven. He never thought he'd have a normal life. He'd never known anything other than this. Not after his mother… Not since Jess… But now Jess was here. She had come back. For him. And, Christ, he had forgotten how much he missed her. Until she was there, in front of him, he has forgotten the pain he felt at the thought of her name, her face, her touch._

_He blinked._

"Sam." Dean pulled back from his brother, holding him by the shoulders. Sam's gaze was slack, his eyes half closed, and he was unresponsive. This was bad. BAD bad. Like, losing faith in humanity bad. Dean had been in some serious scrapes over the years, but he had never seen his brother look like this. The colour was steadily draining from his face, so that he was now an eerie shade of grey.

"Sam." He let a hint of desperation flow into his voice. On a day to day basis, he didn't like to let Sam know that he was panicking, but this was one of those rare moments when we just couldn't help it. His little brother was hurt real bad, and Dean genuinely didn't know how he was going to deal with that. Sam was still gasping, shallow breaths that rattled in his chest, and his head lolled.

"Sam!" Dammit! He would not let his baby brother die. Not here. Not now. He had looked after the kid since forever; cleaned his banged up knees; wiped his runny noses; held him when he cried. He had been like a second father to him when John was away – and when John was there. He had always had much more patience for the kid than his real father. Ha had always done whatever was needed to keep him safe and happy. And he was not, was NOT, going to give up on him now, when he needed him the most. When they needed each other.

"Hey." Dean cast a discerning eye over his brother, searching for any other visible injuries. Apart from the obvious, and the dislocated shoulder, he couldn't see anything else clearly amiss. That was good. Well, not good exactly, but at least now he knew he wasn't going to do any more damage by moving the kid.

"Hey!" He tried once more to get a reaction, lightly shaking Sam, but stopped as he saw the way his brother's head flopped heavily to his chest, hair in his eyes. The kid wasn't with it. Not by a long shot. He was conscious – barely – and breathing – badly – and Dean would just have to go with that. Right now, he really needed to look at that wound without letting his brother slide to the muddy track. Letting him drown in a dirty puddle wouldn't help, would it?

**So. There you go. The next chapter will hopefully get written this weekend but if not, please don't hate me. ; D**


	3. Chapter 3

**Yay! Chapter 3, as promised. This one might be a tad depressing, but hey, that's the point of this piece really. Again, the speech from Jess, and Sam's thoughts, are from 'Anywhere' by Evanescence. Awesome song! Still wishing I owned the boys, but sadly no. They're still Kripke's. Dammit!**

**This one's for jabberjay13. Coz she reviews! If you review, you get a mention. That's how it works! Not that I'm bribing my way to reviews … but if it works! Haha**

**Hope you like!**

_Sam stared at Jess, blinking slowly. Thoughts raced through his mind as he tried to figure out what to do. He wanted to be with Jessica so badly it hurt, but he didn't want to let Dean down. His brother would never forgive him if he left now. He would never be the same again. But Jess… Every part of her was ingrained in his memory. He could remember her hair, shining in the sun during a recess at Stanford, the colour of spun gold. He could remember her eyes, pools of life in her perfect face. He could remember her hands, elegant and delicate. He could remember her lips, soft as velvet and the exact shade of roses on porcelain. _

_He had spent the better part of the last two years pretending that he was coping with the loss of his girlfriend, his better half. He had thought he was doing a good job, but apparently Dean had seen right through his act. His brother had known exactly how he was feeling, how the guilt was eating away at him, and had told him in no uncertain terms to pull himself together. So Sam had tried. He really had. And he had just been getting over it – properly getting over it – when he had started seeing her again._

_The first time had been in River Grove, after the thing with the Croatoan virus. He had thought he had imagined it. Then he had hoped he had imagined it, because her being here, among all of this madness, was more than he could bear to face. But he had seen her several more times since then. He had never told Dean – despite what his brother thought, some things weren't meant to be shared – and had carried on fooling his brother, and fooling himself. Not any more. _

"_I can't keep pretending that I don't even know you." Sam's voice didn't seem to be working, so he _thought_ at Jess, hoping that his meaning and his words would reach her. He was sick and tired of faking this happiness for Dean. He also knew, deep down, that he wasn't actually fooling anybody. Especially not Dean. He couldn't. Not when he dreamt about Jess every time he closed his eyes to sleep. Bad dreams, when he relived that terrifying night over and over again. Strange dreams, which made no sense and faded from his memories the second he woke up. Good dreams, fantastic dreams, where they were happy and together and had everything they had always wanted but never had the chance to have. He wished that he could live in these dreams forever._

"_At sweet night, you are my own." He told Jess in his mind. Maybe now those dreams could come true. Maybe there could be a happy-ever-after, chick flick moments be damned. Maybe. He could hope._

"_Take my hand." Jess whispered gently, extending her open palm towards Sam._

_He blinked._

"C'm here." Dean pulled Sammy closer, trying to figure out how to investigate the damage that son-of-a-bitch had done. It was going to be tricky to balance his brother's lanky frame and reach around to his back at the same time. He carefully settled himself lower on the ground, making himself marginally more comfortable. His .45 was digging painfully into the small of his back, but he barely noticed. Shuffling slightly so that he was nearer to Sam, he grasped his brother's arms hard. He was probably gripping hard to enough to leave marks, but a little bruising later was the least of Dean's concerns right now.

"C'm here." He repeated himself without even realising. His brain was scrambled, his thoughts muddled. The only thing that was clear was that he had to take care of his baby brother. That was his job; the one thing that his father had made perfectly obvious. Look after Sammy; you're all he's got. Dean's mind was going in circles and he could almost hear it buzzing in his ears. Take care of Sammy. Assess the damage. Do your job. Help your brother. Now, Dean, go!

"Lemme look at'cha." Taking a deep breath to steady himself, he leant forwards and reached around Sam. He could feel his brother's shaky exhalations against his neck, and silently cursed that they weren't stronger. Hold on Sammy! He pressed his hand against the dip in his brother's spine, wincing inwardly when Sam didn't respond to the touch. Wakey wakey, eggs and bacey, Sammy! Please? His palm stuck to the slick wetness on his brother's jacket as he pulled it away, and he steeled himself before he looked down.

His hand was red with his baby brother's blood. Dean's own blood ran cold at the sight and he had to remind himself to breathe. He had known that the blade had been pulled out, and that there was going to be blood. But he wasn't expecting there to be this much in such a short space of time. All attempts at a calm façade melted away in an instant as an icy terror filled his bones. This was serious. Now that he could see the damage, he could also see the dark stain spreading as fresh blood exited his kid brother with each irregular heartbeat. Crap! Sammy was in major trouble and Dean didn't know what to do. He didn't have a clue. He vaguely remembered Bobby running after the mysterious assailant, so knew that he would be no help to him either. Double crap! He gulped and briefly allowed his true emotions to flicker across his face, his expression morphing into one of pure fear, knowing that, in all likelihood, Sammy couldn't even see him.

**Hope you liked. I'll get the next chapter up as soon as possible. **

**In the meantime … Carry on my wayward son! (Or daughter I guess!)**


	4. Chapter 4

**Boring stuff first. Kripke still won't give me the boys and Evanescence won't lend me the song.**

**Now for the fun stuff. Sorry this took so long. Life got in the way a bit. I'll try not to let that happen again. **

**This one is for SPNAngelGirl, who writes EPIC long reviews and who I love very much in an I-haven't-known-you-very-long-and-am-really-not-trying-to-be-weird-or-pervy kind of way. You were the first one who really showed an interest in me and I appreciate that more than words. *big hugs***

**So to you, and to everyone, enjoy!**

_Sam's vision was hazy. Whether the fog was due to the situation he was in, or the tears he could feel building, he wasn't sure. But the world was definitely cloudy, and it was irritating him immensely. Jessica's beckoning hand was blurring over Dean's shoulder, her face was shimmering. That was crap. He wanted to be able to see her properly, now that she had come back for him. Stupid eyes! He blinked, trying to clear his sight, and was surprised at how difficult it was to lift his eyelids again. Damn!_

_Sam was dying. He knew that now. Had known it for a while, if he was being completely obvious with himself. Dying was … interesting. Not what he had expected. Less glamorous for one. He had never expected to die kneeling in a muddy puddle in the middle of a rotten, rain-soaked ghost town. He had hoped for something exciting; something with oomph! To go out with a bang! This was just soggy, cold, and a little humiliating. On the other hand, dying was also much less painful than he had anticipated. Once the initial agony had passed, the spreading heat in his back was actually quite pleasant. It was keeping him warm, distracting him from his water-logged jeans and his dripping hair. And he had never expected to see Jess. That one was a nice surprise. He didn't think that she would ever come back, thought that she would blame him for everything. But she was here. And she wanted him to go with her._

_He didn't know how to tell Jess that he wanted to follow her; that he would follow her anywhere she asked. His limbs were unresponsive, his voice had failed him, and even his eyes were beginning to refuse to obey simple commands. Piecing together coherent thoughts was becoming increasingly difficult, words and images firing randomly in his brain. He tried to nod his head; to indicate his consent to Jessica; but it was impossible. The command dissolved somewhere in between his mind and the muscles in his neck. He hoped Jess would understand._

"_We're leaving here tonight." Jessica spoke gently but firmly, a bizarre hint of Dad in her tone. Tonight? That soon? Sam wasn't ready to leave yet. He had things he needed to do first. He had to stop the yellow-eyed demon. He had to finish the job. He had to say goodbye. To his old friends. To Ellen. To Jo. To Bobby. To Dean. He couldn't go anywhere without telling Dean first. It had always been that way; that was just how it worked. Dean needed to know where Sam – Sammy – was. And Sam needed to know that Dean would be ok. Dean thought he had to protect Sam, but had never understood that it also worked in reverse. Sam had to watch out for his brother. His stupid, suicidally gung-ho big brother. So he couldn't leave until he had told Dean. Until he had said goodbye. Properly. _

"_There's no need to tell anyone." Once more, Jess' voice reached into his thoughts and replied accordingly. Sam almost scoffed at the idea. Of course he had to tell Dean. He knew his big brother better than anybody, and he knew that Dean didn't cope well with sudden change, no matter how deep he tried to hide his emotions. He needed time to adjust … to prepare. So Sam had to tell him. He HAD to. But … If Sam told his brother what was happening, Dean would only try to stop it. He wouldn't understand. He couldn't possibly understand. He would never let Sam go._

"_They'll only hold us down." Jess echoed Sam's mind exactly. As if to illustrate her point, he felt distant hands move him, pull him upright. A shape moved into his line of sight. He was pretty sure it was a face, but the features were blurry, indistinguishable. More importantly, it was in the way. Jess was behind it somewhere, and he couldn't see her any more. Damn!_

_He blinked._

Dean pushed away from his brother, gritting his teeth to mask the raw emotion in his expression. His legs were freezing and his face was numb, battered by the driving rain, but he bit back the shivers and focussed on Sam. He wished he hadn't. If it was even possible, Sammy looked worse than before. His head lolled listlessly to the side as if the supporting structures had turned to mush. He seemed to be having an increasing amount of trouble keeping his eyes open; the lids were half closed and the stare behind them was glassy. From the direction of the gaze, Dean would have guessed that Sam was looking at something behind him. But Dean knew that there was nothing there.

"Hey, look." He moved his hands from around his kid brother's back, shifting to support his Sasquatch form. Sammy didn't as much as glance at him. Maybe he couldn't, maybe he didn't want to. Whatever. Dean didn't really care what Sam did – or did not – want right now. Sam was going to listen and he was going to do what he was told.

"Look at me." He ordered, sounding like his father even to his own ears. That was the tone of voice that left no room for argument. It was the tone that made you pay attention. Clearly Sammy's attention-paying capabilities were compromised, because he didn't even try to comply. Not satisfied with the response, Dean grabbed the lapels of his brother's jacket, forcing him to straighten up a little, and held him there, within his line of sight. He needed to get through to him; needed something to penetrate his skull. So he leant in towards Sam, speaking directly at him and looking him squarely in the eye.

"It's not even that bad." Dean spoke calmly and evenly in an attempt to reassure both his brother and himself. It wasn't overly successful. He could hear the shake in his voice that betrayed his emotions; he could feel the sharp sting of salt water in his tear ducts. He also knew that he was lying. It was bad. Very bad. The thought of the blood loss alone made him feel slightly dizzy, never mind whatever that knife had ripped apart inside his brother. Facing the truth, he put Sammy's chances of recovery at minimal. Even if he survived the wound itself, the risk of infection from a rusty, dirty blade was high. And depending on the internal injuries, survival was only the beginning. Sammy might never be the same again. Might not walk again. Might not…

"It's not even that bad, alright?" Dean had to keep believing, for both of their sakes. He had to pull himself together; to be the strong one. He took a steadying breath, willing himself back to a state of relative calm. Stressing wasn't going to do Sam any good, and it wouldn't help make the situation any better. He closed his eyes briefly, finding a well of inner peace he didn't know he possessed, and focussed intently on his brother's ragged breathing. Each inhalation was slow and shallow, but Dean could just about match his own to it. That was good; a ray of hope. Surely?

Sam paused in his quest for oxygen, his chest stilling momentarily before picking up a more erratic pace.

Dean's calm was lost and panic took over again.

**Et Voila! Hope you liked the latest instalment. Hopefully the next chapter wont take so long (praying to Cas for help with that!) and I'll see you all real soon.**

**For now … Don't fear the reaper!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Hi guys. I know I said I'd quicker this time. Please don't shoot me. Life again. Essays for uni and such crap! Anyway, chapter 5.**

**I'm so RIDICULOUSLY grateful for the reviews and the follows. Keep 'em coming! Special thanks to Jayden Grace1 , SPNAngelGirl , peace n paris , and jabberjay13 . you guys rock!**

**I hope you like this latest instalment. I skipped a verse of the song I'm using, coz it just didn't seem to fit quite right. I think it makes for a better story in the long run and I wont feel like I'm repeating myself quite so much! Haha. Hope you like!**

**Usual disclaimers: the boys aren't mine (apart from in my head!) and the song is the property of Evanescence and Amy Lee.**

_Sam tried to crane his neck to see around the figure kneeling in front of him, but even that small movement was seemingly beyond his abilities. He knew that Jess was still there; could still feel her presence just out of sight, but not being able to see her was hard. She had only just returned after two long years and the thought of losing her again so soon was heartbreaking. What did he have to do to keep her here? Or to leave with her?_

_Jessica's voice filtered into Sam's foggy brain as it travelled around the immovable figure, and he let his eyes fall closed as her words washed over him._

"_By the morning's light…" By the morning's light, what? What did the morning have to do with anything? He would never see another dawn, so why mention it? He didn't like to think of all the sunrises and sunsets he would be missing from now on. He knew his brother would be teasing him for that thought, calling him all kinds of girl's names, but he didn't care. So what if he felt a little sentimental. He was dying, after all. He felt like he deserved a bit of sentimentality right now. But he still didn't understand what was supposed to have happened by the time the sun rose._

"_We'll be halfway to anywhere." Anywhere? Anywhere sounded pretty good. 'Anywhere' had to be better than here. Here was damp – Hell, it was downright oceanic – and here was cold. Here was crappy and 'anywhere' had to be an improvement. When could they go? Why weren't they leaving yet? How would they get there? What was 'anywhere' going to be like?_

"_Where love is more than just your name." Love. Sam could hardly remember what love felt like, it had been so long. For the last couple of years his memories of love had simply been a collection of memories of Jess. If anybody had asked him if he'd ever been in love – not that anybody ever did – he would have replied with one word. Jessica. He would love to be somewhere where he had more than just a name to make him smile; to keep him warm. Where he could be happy again. Whole again._

_He felt hands shaking him roughly and he forced his eyes open. He was still in the field and the figure was still in front of him. _

_He groaned silently to himself._

"Sammy?" Breathe, dammit! Dean was close to hyperventilating himself, as if he could draw in enough oxygen to keep both of them going. He had saved his brother's life more times than he cared to count, and if he had any say in the matter, this would just be another one of those times. Sam had needed his strength beside him since he had been a baby, carried from their burning home in Dean's four-year-old arms. He had needed his courage when he repeated the action twenty two years later on a Halloween night in Stanford. And he needed his determination now. But, dammit, he couldn't breathe for the kid.

"Sam!" Kneeling in the mud, Dean felt powerless. He hadn't felt this helpless, this vulnerable, since they were kids in Fort Douglas and that shtriga attacked. He remembered clearly the hopeless feeling of watching his brother's life force leaving his body; that sense of dread that froze him in place, unable to do anything to help. Watching Sam suffering. This felt exactly the same. He wished that there was a monster he could hunt down for this, but there was just a man. A man who Bobby was already chasing. And his baby brother, his Sammy, bleeding in his arms. Dean was startled out of his memories by a painful but ridiculously welcome sound. A tiny, ragged pull of air between his brother's pale lips. He waited impatiently until he heard the barely-audible gasping release, followed by a second shallow breath. Small – too small – but there nonetheless. That's it. C'mon Sammy. You can do this.

"Hey!" Now that his brother was breathing on his own again, Dean spoke with a little more confidence, a little more authority. He needed Sam to understand that he would do anything – _anything_ – to put this right, but that he was going to need a little help. Sam was going to have to do his bit, play his part. He had to keep breathing, for one. Never stop breathing, because Dean didn't think he would be able to cope if his brother did that again. So, keep breathing. Keep living. Keep fighting. Because, as much as Dean wanted to give his strength to his baby brother, it wasn't possible. So Sammy would just have to keep fighting.

Sam's eyes were closed. Dean couldn't let him fall asleep. Not now. Later. When all of this was over, when everything was fixed, then he could sleep. Then they could both sleep. For a week. At least. Now, right now, Dean needed to see those familiar brown eyes, to know that Sammy was, on some level, awake. And if that meant getting a little more physical, then so be it. He shook his brother's lanky frame, gently at first and wary of Sam's dislocated shoulder, but then with more force. The muddy brown eyes slid open slowly and Dean breathed a sigh of relief. Sure, they were dull, glassy and unfocussed, but they were open. That was good. It was something, at least.

"Listen to me." Dean commanded.

**Hope that was to your liking guys! I am enjoying writing this, despite the drawbacks of, you know, life and stuff. I hope to be a bit quicker next time, but uni is busy busy busy right now, so bear with me. **

**In the meantime: Don't forget the pie!**

**Peace out!**


	6. Chapter 6

**Another new chapter. Told you I'd try to be a bit quicker. I'm not gonna waffle in this introduction, because this bit isn't why you keep reading! Just gonna say that I love you guys (in a non-pervy, girly, awesome kinda way) and appreciate the reviews and stuff. You guys rock!**

**Keep the reviews coming coz I got none yet for the last chapter and that made me sad ( **** ) and I like to think that you lot don't like to make people like me sad.**

**You know the disclaimers by now. Kripke, Evanescence, yadda yadda yadda, blah blah blah.**

**Enjoy!**

_Sam stared at the shadowy figure, not really seeing it but looking at in nonetheless. Its head bobbed and Sam imagined that it was speaking to him, but he couldn't make out the words. To be perfectly honest, he didn't really dare any more. What was happening here, now, was of very little interest to him. He felt as if he was floating, light headed and slightly dizzy, and he just wanted all of this to be over and done with. He just had to figure out a way to let Jessica know that he was ready._

_As if she could hear his thoughts once more, Jess appeared around the clouded figure. Unable to move his head in her direction, all that was visible to him was a flash of colour from her hair and dress as she walked past him. He knew he was incapable of turning around to meet her, but he felt he had to try. The disappointment he encountered at his failure was expected, but devastating anyway. He heard her soft footsteps, surprisingly graceful in the thick mud, and took some comfort at this telltale sign that she was still with him._

_Her voice was gentle over his shoulder._

"_Forget this life." Forget it? Sam wished he could forget all of this; the hunting, the monsters, the losses and the fears. But how could he? The things he had seen, the things he had _done_, were images that were permanently seared into his mind. Engraved on his brain forever. He would always remember his first hunt all those years ago. Would always dream about wendigos, witches and vengeful spirits. To be able to forget it all, to wipe the slate clean and be free of those memories, would be bliss. Maybe Jess could help him forget. Maybe she could be his freedom, his release from the prison that had held him since before he could even remember. Maybe. _

"_Come with me." Yes. He would. As long as he knew that Dean would be alright without him. As long as he knew that the world would be safe in his brother's hands. That Dean would keep saving people, protecting people. Once Sam was gone, he would be gone for good, and he wouldn't be able to help any more. Ever. Unless he stayed. Died, but stayed. As a ghost. A spirit. Then he could help Dean to carry on their work. He would be able to stay on the right path. To not turn Darkside. Probably._

"_Don't look back, you're safe now." Safe? He knew the word, understood what it meant, but had never heard it applied to him before. His life had never exactly been what you would call safe, hunting down things that wanted to kill him, and he didn't know what it felt like to be safe. Stanford had been the closest he had ever come to safety, and even then he was on edge all of the time, paranoid that something would find him. Or find Jess. And something had. But now… the allure of safety was almost overwhelming, temptingly close. He could be free of all of this, forever._

_But what about Dean?_

Direct eye contact was clearly out of the question – Sammy obviously didn't have enough strength left to lift his head – but his dull gaze seemed to gain an ounce of thoughtfulness. Dean decided that this was probably as good as it was going to get, so he may as well speak now while his brother was still semi-lucid.

"We're gonna patch you up, ok?" Dean didn't have a clue how they would patch this up but they would do their best. He was out of his depth, he was fully aware of that, but he could surely do _something_ to help Sam. Hell, he was going to need Bobby's help on this one. The older hunter had seen more, done more, and would be more likely to be able to deal with this level of urgency. It was going to be a tough one, but his baby brother was a tough kid, and Bobby knew how to deal with them better than anyone, after all these years. Where the hell was Bobby anyway? Surely it can't have taken him all this time to chase down the guy who did this. He must be on his way back by now. Surely? Please? Bobby?

"You'll be as good as new, huh?" Dean was talking to himself just as much as he was talking to Sam, possibly even more so. If he didn't keep talking, he felt like he might fall apart completely. His brother's face was ashen, his chest rose and fell in rapid, staccato bursts, and the heartbeat he could feel at this close proximity was erratic and weak. Sam was in a bad way, and needed help _now_. Help that Dean couldn't give. He didn't have the training, or the experience. He just had to try and hold himself and his brother together until Bobby got back.

"And we're gonna take care of you." They would. Dean and Bobby would look after Sammy, whatever happened. Whatever state he was in on the other side of this. Whatever help he might need, Dean would be there. Because Dean was always there. He always had been and he always would be. That was never going to change. Sam, his Sammy, was the most important thing in the world and he would protect him with his last breath.

"We're gonna take care of you. I gotcha." The heartbeat under his fingertips fluttered and Dean swallowed and blinked back tears. He had to protect Sam. He had to fix this. He had to do his job, the only job that had ever mattered. But he couldn't keep lying to Sammy – to himself. He had to face the truth.

His baby brother was dying. Here and now. And there was nothing he could do to stop it.

**There you go!**

**Got essays the next couple week so bear with me.**

**Don't forget: review, review, review!**

**And … Pudding!**


	7. Chapter 7

**Ok. So this chapter took a lot of thinking about and a lot more crying over, but its finally done. The last chapter! I was going to write an epilogue after this, but I figure that if you've read this far you know what happens in the episode and don't need it. So I'm just gonna be really mean and leave it at the end of this bit. Hehe. Hope you guys like (and review! Feed an author's mind please!) coz I took what is possibly an unnatural amount of glee in writing this chapter.**

**The usual disclaimers: not mine, not mine, and yes I'm still pissed that they're not mine!**

**Enjoy!**

_As much as he wanted to leave all of this behind him, memories of his idiotic, brainless, awesome big brother wouldn't let him go. Dean, aged 9, stealing pie off the 5 year old Sam's plate. Dean, at 17, slipping Nair into his 14 year old brother's shampoo, then buying him a beer to make up for it. Dean, 26, saving Sam's ass from a woman in white, but still being pissed off at him for crashing his precious car. Dean; brave, loud and brash. Dean; lonely, scared and vulnerable, but never admitting it to anybody, especially himself. Dean, who Sam knew better than anybody. Who he had shared a room with, shared a bed with, even, since before Sam could remember. His brother. His roommate. His occasional punching bag. His regular carer. His best friend. Dean was a part of Sam's heart that could never be erased, never be forgotten. _

"_Unlock your heart." Sam knew that it should bug him how easily Jess could gauge his thoughts. He knew that he should find it creepy, unnatural. But he couldn't find it in himself to be suspicious of this. Against all of his Hunter instincts, he was more than willing to trust Jess, whether she was real, a ghost, or just a figment of his lonely imagination. Every fibre of his being was telling him not to be so accepting of this, and he wanted to listen. He really did. But a small, exceedingly forceful part of his brain was screaming at him to shut up and give up. This was Jess, his Jessica. She was here, but she might not be here for long. _

"_Drop your guard." Jess whispered in his ear, and he felt a soft hand land on his shoulder. It felt amazing, like coming home after years away. Like feeling the sun on his face after months spent underwater. The world melted away and all that remained was Jessica's hand on his arm. Nothing else mattered any more. Not the monsters. Not the demons. Not his father. Barely even his brother. There was just Sam and Jess. Forever. The world had been fine before he was born, and it would be fine after he was gone. Really, he had lasted a lot longer than many lifelong Hunters. He was lucky. And now he deserved peace; wholehearted and unashamed peace. _

"_No one's left to stop you, now." Sam was ready. Completely, definitely ready. He wasn't quite sure how to convey this to Jess, especially when she was behind him, but she had known what he had been thinking so far. Her fingers tightened on his shoulder, a sign that she had understood and that she would stay with him until the very end. Sam smiled internally and exhaled, long and low. His eyes fell closed and did re-open. Sam finally let go of everything and allowed peace to wash over him for the first time in his 23 years of life._

Dean understood now that Sam was dying, slipping out of his grasp. But that didn't mean that Dean was going to stop fighting on his brother's behalf. It didn't mean that he was going to let his baby brother go without a battle. He didn't know what – if anything – he could do to help Sammy, but he had to try to stay positive, for his brother's sake. He couldn't let Sam know what was going on; how serious this really was. Maybe, if Sam thought that he could possibly make it through this, he might be able to hold on a little bit longer.

"I gotcha." Dean tightened his grip on his brother, grounding them both in the here and now. He was numb, all external factors blocking from his peripheral vision as he focussed all of his attention of his brother. With any luck, Sam was as numb as he was, because if his brother was in any pain whatsoever, Dean was going to personally hunt down the bastard who had hurt his brother, and turn his insides into his outsides with his bare hands.

"That's my job, right?" Violence. Something that he could actually do. It wasn't exactly something to be proud of, but it got the job done. And if he could gain some kind of justice in the process, well, that was just a bonus. He pulled himself out of his fantasies of the fun things he could do to the man who stabbed Sammy, concentrating his gaze on his brother's face once more. Sam's face was pale, his lips grey, and Dean moved his supporting hands to beneath his brother's chin, lifting it to the light. A moment of panic ensued as he struggled to locate the pulsing rhythm that he needed so badly to find, but he kept trying until he felt the weak thrum under his fingertips. It was slow, too slow, and getting slower by the second as the amount of blood left to be pumped out of Sam's body lessened. Just a little longer Sammy! Dean prayed to whatever might be out there. _I know I don't do this much, but my brother here does. Sammy believes real bad, so you gotta help him hold on. Just a little longer. Just until Bobby gets back. I cant do this on my own. Please?_

"Watch out for my pain-in-the-ass little brother?" Not even Dean was sure whether the question was aimed at himself or to whoever – or whatever – he was sending his silent wishes to. All he knew was that he was losing his baby brother forever in the middle of a cold, wet, muddy field, because of some stupid guy with a rusty knife. He wouldn't say no to a little divine intervention. Even the great Dean Winchester had his limits, and right now he was so far past them that he couldn't even see them any more. He brushed a hand gently over Sammy's face, pushing his wet bangs out of his eyes. That infernal hair, a bone of contention between the brothers for years. Dean teased Sam constantly about the length of his girly locks, but he would give anything to feel the familiar annoyance as Sam fussed with his hair in the rear view mirror. Hell, he just wanted Sam to open his eyes.

Wait! When had Sam's eyes closed? And why weren't they opening again?

"Sam?" Dean's fingers fluttered frantically over his baby brother's cheeks, searching for a sign of life. His eyes travelled over his brother's form, but stopped abruptly as he realised that the halting rise and fall of Sam's chest had stopped. He let his fingers rest once again on Sammy's neck, but the faint flicker of a beat had disappeared. No! Sam, don't do this! Just five more minutes! He wasn't ready to say goodbye yet!

"Sam?" He wasn't going to let it happen like this. No! this was his brother, his Sammy, and he was NOT going to die like this. But his skin was cold and grey, his lips bloodless and blue.

"Sam!" Sam couldn't be gone. He couldn't be. Dean sent up one final, desperate plea. _God? Are you there? Please? Dad? I failed you. I failed Sammy. I'm sorry. I couldn't do anything. I wasn't there when I should have been. I couldn't look after him. It's your turn now dad. Look after him? Bring him back? Do something? Please?_ There was no response.

"Sammy!" Dean's baby brother was dead and he couldn't stop it. He was worse than useless. He was nothing.

Dean was vaguely aware that he was muttering to himself, but none of that mattered now. Sam was gone, and nothing could bring him back. He clutched his brother close, burying his face in Sam's too-long hair, and wished that things could have ended differently. Looking to the stars, hoping that Sammy could somehow hear him, Dean screamed his baby brother's name to the heavens as the bottom fell out of his world.

**So. There you go. I'm now secretly hoping that I've broken a few of you as much as I've broken myself, because I don't think I could cope if nobody else cried. **

**I promise that my next piece will be a lot more light-hearted than this. I'm going to try to alternate the slightly depressing with the fun and brotherly.**

**Please leave a review! I'm getting lonely in my writers basement with no light and hardly any food. They've said they'll only let me out if I get reviews! HELP!**


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